Trust Issues
by Star of Light
Summary: Alexia Johnson and Psymon Stark have not even been together for six months, but old problems from their long past have come back to haunt them yet again. To understand this sequel, please read Love Thine Enemy first.
1. Dreamer

Dreamer

Garibaldi Course

2001-2002 SSX Tricky World Circuit

__

The place was old, to put it nicely. Anciently dilapidated would be more accurate. Bricks were falling off of the primeval façade, the glass panes in the windows had been shattered. There was no working door. About ten or fifteen boards were nailed over what had to be the double-door frame, and bits of a navy blue, ragged, wool blanket stuck out of the holes. Psymon walked up to one filth-swathed window, and tried to peer in, but found he couldn't. He moved to another window, one with a big hole in it, and caught a glimpse of the interior. Fire-burnt sticks of wood, resembling chair legs and bed posts littered the floor, and a thick layer of grime covered every imaginable surface. Psymon could see small tattered rags, slightly resembling child's clothing scattered across the blackened wooden plank floorboards, and a few play toys and kiddie reading books. 

Psymon suddenly had a powerful recognition of the place. Harldon's. His childhood home, the place where he and Evan Johnson had grown to become brothers. It was a charred version of Harldon's Orphanage. Instantly curious upon this newfound identification, Psymon walked around the large building until he came across a window that had most of the glass broken out already. Carefully grabbing edges of the window that weren't sharp with the broken pieces of window, he hauled himself inside and gingerly set foot on the decrepit floor. He was in the kitchen, a place with big cutting blocks and razor-sharp butcher knives. Also a place of numerous small sweets that could be found in the huge freezer. But there was nothing there; he even checked. 

He prowled out of the room and down the hall, to another room, this one in the front of the building, the one he had looked into from the window. There was almost a tangy scent of burnt wood in the air, but it was drowned out by the stench of burning wool. And suddenly the room was engulfed in flame in a circle around him, and the tattered children's clothes on the floor, the small sweaters really were_ burning. Psymon jumped out of the ring of fire and turned towards the front door: to be confronted by a huge monster. The thing towered over him, even though it was hunched over. It had huge hands and scraggly claws…beady red eyes the color of blood with yellow cat-eye irises. Its skin was deathly pale; white as a ghost. He could see the monster's organs through the transparent layer- the fast-beating heart, the stomach that was still digesting its last prey… Psymon felt nauseated, and took a step back. _

The demon stepped forward, and in that single instant, Psymon was completely freaked out. He spun on his heel and ran…and the beast followed. The hall Psymon was running in ended, and he made a quick right, not even knowing where he was headed. At least, not consciously. His subconscious led him to the room that he had once shared with Evan. Third room of the West Hall on the third floor. Right next to the bathroom. Psymon's breath came in spurts now, he was out of shape a bit, after taking it kind of easy over the break from the Tricky circuit. He knew_ that he had to be faster than the demon…just one more door…Psymon reached his door, and noticed the small wooden sign that still hung on it: _Psymon & Evan's Room: Lexie, KEEP OUT!_ Nowadays, he regretted that. Grabbing the door handle, he turned it, swung open the door, and- the albino demon was upon him. _

The clawed fingers grabbed Psymon's biceps, squeezed them so tight he could feel his bones breaking. A scream of pain escaped his lungs, and Psymon knew this was the end…it was going to end right where nearly everything had begun. He grabbed at the clawed hands on his forehands; tried to keep them from moving across his chest. Something shook his shoulder; it wasn't the demon. He could hear a small, soothing voice, but it was drowned out by the shriek of his own pain and the screaming victory cries of the demon. And then, being raised up high into the air, his skull connecting with the ceiling, Psymon was dropped back to reality.

***

Psymon's eyes flew open. His hands were grabbing at the shapely arms entwined around his waist. He was holding them tightly…too tightly. He looked down at them, saw the short, not-so-perfectly self-manicured nails, covered in black nail polish, and let go as fast as possible. He flipped over, from his left side to his right, to see a pair of large green eyes staring at him in concern and curiosity. The eyes were framed by long lashes, and were placed in an oval face, of a fair tone. The face was bordered by voluminous auburn hair, messy and wildly tangled. The body that the heavenly face was attached to was petite, but toned. This girl wasn't slim, but curvy, and he noticed it only because she wasn't wearing any clothes whatsoever. _How the hell did I get _here? Psymon asked himself. The girl began to talk, and the words were nearly lost on Psymon's ears, because he was mesmerized by the lyrical tone that matched the one in his dream. 

"…and I'm getting worried, over here, Psy. Did you know that pigs could fly?" Alexia Johnson was getting fed up. Psymon had been staring at her in wonder, as if she were the first girl he had ever seen in the flesh. She felt like they were fifteen years old. 

"Whaaa?" Psymon replied, startled when her tone became harsh. He looked up to her eyes and saw fire behind the green orbs. Angry fire. And then Psymon realized he was looking at a woman who was his girlfriend. He still had no name for her.

"You were screaming your head off for nearly five minutes." She looked at him impatiently, pulling the black flannel sheets over her nakedness. 

"I… was?" Psymon replied. Rolling her eyes and heaving a heavy sigh, she crossed her arms and simply nodded. "Why?"

"Psymon, I _don't know_! You were dead asleep one second, and the next you were fucking shrieking like there was some monster under the bed and you were two years old!" She climbed out of bed, observing Psymon's sudden stiffness at the mention of the word 'monster,' and went to a tall armoire and began rooting through a drawer. "You tell me, Psymon. My guess is that you were having a nightmare."

Psymon let out a short laugh. "There was no _nightmare_," he scoffed. "Just… a bad dream, Lex." _Where did _that_ name come from?_ he asked himself.

"It's the same thing, Psy," she told him in a short tone. Psymon had no reply. "Look. When you woke up, you were practically detaching my hands from my arms. It kind of hurt. So…I'm going to sleep on the couch for a while, alright?" Upon Psymon's brusque nod, a sign of him taking offense, Alexia kissed him softly and sweetly on his sweat-ridden brow, and walked out of the room slowly, taking an afghan with her. Psymon cracked his jaw, his knuckles, and his neck, and flipped over a few times, settling in the middle of the mattress, with the sheets nestled loosely around his trim waist. This time around, sleep came more easily and more gently. 

***

Alexia felt reason to be considerably worried. Her boyfriend of nearly five months was completely freaking out every time he was around her- this wasn't the first time he had acted strangely around her. He was becoming more and more introverted and distant, and a strange fear of loss was filling her. She was afraid he had found somebody else, was afraid that he was going to leave her. And right now, she didn't need that. They were back on the circuit now, and the last thing either of them needed was to be distracted by each other and a big fight. She remembered telling him that if they were going to fight, he'd better not do it in the open or ever mention it in public, because she didn't want the hype, the National Enquirer or the paparazzi to follow her around the world. 

A memory of years past suddenly was triggered in her mind… the night that Simon Stark had become a whole new person. The night that Simon Stark had been replaced with… Psymon.

***

_Seven years. They had been gone seven long years, had traveled across the country, all the way to Ferryland, Labrador, the eastern most city in all of Canada. And now it was time to celebrate. There were four of them, Simon and Alexia, Evan and the American runaway rich boy, Zack, that they had picked up somewhere in Quebec on their way home to Okanogan. They had made it all the way, there and back, with five hundred bucks, some fast thinking, and a whole bunch of hard work, mostly excluding Zack. Alexia knew that Simon didn't like the kid, never had. But she was interested… he was good-looking, smart, handsome and sexy. What more could an almost-fifteen-years-old girl want?_

Alexia climbed out of the back of the pickup truck, in the middle of an abandoned field somewhere outside Southern Okanogan. They were at the bottom of a huge mountain of dirt, packed down stiffly. Alexia sighed softly, bored to death, all alone with the truck. She began walking to the trail that led up the dirt peak, a trail that was overgrown with weeds and wild shrubbery. It was an easy climb, not even very steep, and when she reached the top, she took note of a little lip that would make any fast-moving vehicle fly through the air. She then looked out to the sky in front of her…a sunset like no other was coming about; it was beautiful.

A large sun, a ball of yellow flame, was sinking slowly to the earth, and the skies were the colors of a neon sign in a pizza parlor window: hot magenta, various shades of bright fuchsia purple, deep violets and intense oranges. They mixed together, and the clouds matched them, the sky farther above fading into a deep navy blue. The only thing obstructing and ruining the spectacular sight was a set of large power lines, the kind that supported whole cities. The only metropolis around was Okanogan, but it was a good-sized town, maybe around a hundred thousand people in the valley altogether. The sight of those power lines only fifty feet away, level with Alexia's eyes, looked kind of menacing on their two hundred foot high towers. A buzzing sound behind her broke her train of thought, startled her.

Alexia turned to see two figures with wild hair on a small dirt bike flying along, shouting and cat calling. They had to be Simon and her brother Evan, as unkempt as they looked. That was something major that Alexia admired about Zack. Through all their trials, he had managed to keep himself clean and presentable…while Evan and Simon chose to shave only when their small man-beards became too unruly to comb, and they only showered when they stayed in a hotel. Their hair was too long, they looked like wannabe-thrashers at a heavy metal concert.

Alexia knew for a fact that Zack had taken baths in fresh water streams along the way, as had she. She had seen him…still blushed when she thought about seeing his bare chest glistening in the moonlight of midnight, small beads of water still rolling off of it. Thank god she had come across him when at least his lower half was covered. She wouldn't have been able to look at him ever again if she had seen more. Finally, with her walking to the bottom of the foothill slowly, and the boys racing up on their dirt bike, they met somewhere in the middle.

"Where the hell did you guys go? Where's Zack?" Alexia questioned curiously, looking them both in the eye, first Evan, then Simon.

"Why, Lexie? Were you worried?"_ Simon joked. Alexia scoffed at him, and laughed._

"Hell, no. Just curious," she sneered. 

"We got this bike, and Zack went to the grocery store for shampoo," Evan told her calmly. Simon started screeching with laughter, even fell off the bike, grabbing his sides and rolling around.

"Fuck, that's great! You told me he was going to the store, Ev, but you didn't mention shampoo! _My God, he's a wuss!" Simon cackled. Alexia, miffed by Simon as she was, couldn't help but laugh. Soon she was all out roaring too, along with Evan. Ten minutes later, as they were just quieting down, Zack showed up with a small bag from A&P. The three teenagers started cackling a bit more, but quickly quieted down when Zack gave them each a dirty look. He obviously figured that they were laughing at him. Problem was, he was right._

"Laugh at me, do you?" Zack snarled at the three of them. "Laugh at me?"

Simon, being the most loathing toward him, and the most brave, hooted, "Hell, yeah!" and collapsed in laughter again. 

Alexia sat up and shrugged at Zack before telling him, "It is_ kinda funny, being that there is no running water out here and all. I mean, even _I_ don't have shampoo unless we stop at a Motel6." Zack just grunted and glared at her. _

Turning to Simon, he challenged, "Well, Mr. I'm-better-at-surviving-in-the-wild-than-the-rest-of-the-world, how about a little match of strength?" Zack dropped the bag to the ground and crossed his arms, letting his muscular arms tense for a more menacing look. Simon stopped rolling in the dirt and stood up, crossing his own arms, and looking down on the shorter boy.

"You're on, Zacky-baby. Prepare to lose whatever it is we're betting. How about… that extra cash that you never told us about? That cash that's hidden in Evan's truck, in the far back of the glove compartment. I know it's yours. It wasn't there before we picked up your sorry ass," Simon stated with a impish grin. 

Zack backed up a step and asked timidly, "H-how did you know it was there then?"

"Found it this morning," he replied, turning to Evan. "It's in his back pocket, we were planning on confronting you about it tonight. At least if I win, I can guarantee that Lexie and Ev will see it." He turned again, this time to Alexia, who was staring in shock. "Lexie, it's six hundred smackaroos, in twenties. Imagine that. Two hundred bucks to each of us. We could get a normal life with that much."

"I…I know, Simon. That's why I'm cheering for you." Zack's mouth dropped open as she got up and gave Simon a little hug. "Let the games… begin?"

Zack pulled his face into an ugly sneer, and stated, "The bike. Ride it to the top of the hill, and jump. The one who goes higher wins the money." He held out his hand, and Simon reached forward to shake it. Zack pulled away at the last instant, giving Simon a cold smile. "I'll go first," he said. "After that, we'll see if there's even a need for you to go."

Simon lunged towards him, his hands outstretched in a motion to grab Zack's neck and break right there, but Alexia grabbed his arm and whispered in his ear, "Simon, you'll get your chance." He let out a small bark of laughter, and clamed down. Zack started the bike, revved the engine a few times, and took off. He sped up the side of the mini-mountain, and flew off the lip of the trail and into the air. He sailed through the dying light, and Alexia waited to hear the crash of the bike hitting the ground and exploding. It didn't come. Evan ran up the hill and looked down, seeing Zack landed and coming back.

"He made it, he's on his way back," Evan said. "Good luck, brother." He clapped Simon on the shoulder, and stood with Alexia as Simon walked forward to receive the bike from Zack. Zack jumped off and dropped it in the dirt, not taking any visible notice of Psymon. He walked over to Alexia, and picked her up.

"Like that jump, Lexie?" Zack asked her, looking her in the eye as his hands brushed her buttocks.

"Well, I'd be more adept at telling you if you'd put me down, I can hardly breathe," she told him. Alexia heard a small snort from Simon's general direction and guessed that he had caught the small scent of distaste in her statement, although Zack had not. He put her down, and asked her again.

"I wasn't really watching. Just saw you fly through the air after you jumped. And then you were gone."

"Oh. Well, it was great, I'm telling you. You should try motocross sometime. I think you'd like it, Lexie," he informed her.

"Well, today is not the time, we've only got a bout five minutes of light left, and Simon has to go, still. I would like to see his jump," Alexia told Zack shortly. She saw the friendly fire in his eyes go out, and she turned from him to Simon and said, "Good luck, Si."

Simon grinned wryly, winked at her, and replied, "Yep, thanks Lex." He started up the bike, revved the engine the same amount of times Zack had, and zoomed off to the knoll. They watched him fly up off of the hill, and into the air, and heard a crazy shout coming from him.

Lexie ran up the hill, shouting, "He went higher! He went higher than Zack!" Evan ran after her, shouting in agreement, as Zack stood there in disbelief. Just as Lexie reached the top, about ten yards ahead of Evan, she let out a bloodcurdling scream as a sickening boom filled the air, and sparks flew up, even visible from where Zack was standing. 

"SIMON!!!!!!!!!!" she shrieked. "SIMON!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" Smoke began to rise, and Zack rushed up the hill too, wondering what the hell had gone wrong. He had not sabotaged the bike, hadn't had enough time to. When he reached the top, the sight was appalling. There was one mangled dirt bike lying on a set of power lines, along with a body that was quickly becoming charred. Suddenly the sparks stopped, and Zack assumed that the power had gone out. Alexia and Evan ran down the other side of the hill, and to the tower closest to Simon's body. He was about two feet from the tower. 

"You climb up and try to get him out of there, Lexie! I'll wait down here, in case he falls on his own!" Evan shouted to her. She merely nodded and began scampering up the ladder as quickly as possible. About half way up, a piece of the bike fell down, nearly hitting Evan. Alexia stopped and looked down at Evan, a hundred feet below her. "Keep going, Lex!" Three quarters of the way from the bottom, Simon shifted, and he began to slip off of the wires. Alexia began moving faster, but just as she reached the top of the tower, two feet from Simon's right shoulder, he fell completely. Alexia squeezed her eyes shut, imagining the worst: Evan wasn't able to catch him cleanly, and got hurt, himself. 

But little did she know, Zack had raced down and together, he and Evan caught Simon cleanly between the two of them. When she opened her eyes upon hearing a loud shout, she looked down to see the two of them holding Simon gingerly and beginning to move back to the truck. She sighed in relief, but still afraid that her brother's friend had died, she hurried back down that ladder as fast as she could while still being cautious. She sprinted back to the truck, which Evan and Zack had reached, and helped them put Simon's limp body in the flatbed. Climbing up there herself, she told the boys to rush to the hospital, to get them there as soon as possible. 

***

If she remembered correctly, Psymon had been in the hospital for a month, wasting those six hundred bucks that he had won, and then some. Alexia and Evan had worked their asses off, making as much money as possible, and dealing with Zack stealing half of it to gamble and "try to make more money," as he called it. She even remembered what the nurse had told them in the emergency room: he had suffered second degree, superficial partial-thickness burns, lucky that the wires had not touched a bit of his bare skin or face. If they had touched his arms or neck, he would have been killed. He would also go through amnesia, and possibly mental disorders, depending on the amount of electricity that had run through his body.

It was obvious that the mental disorders were existent, and as far as alexia knew, he did not remember much of that night. These…mental health issues were definitely beginning to kick in. Alexia grew more worried as she thought about it; she didn't know much about schizophrenia or other disorders, and she feared that if one of them involved her being around him, she would have to push him away. Living alone and having him in good health was more important that having his arms around her. 


	2. Faith

Faith

Garibaldi Course

"_Before this river  
Becomes an ocean  
Before you throw my heart back on the floor  
Oh baby I reconsider  
My foolish notion  
Well I need someone to hold me  
But I'll wait for something more  
Yes I've gotta have faith…_" 

- George Micheal, popularized by Limp Bizkit

Alexia looked up from the sink, and saw two very tired eyes staring back at her. She and Psymon hadn't slept together in nearly three or four weeks… she was worried about him, worried that she brought back memories of his past that he had to face. It was inevitable that they would come back, she had known they would, but all along, knowing that they had got on quite well for five months, she had been hoping deep down that they wouldn't. But hope was not reality, and it could do nothing to make their trials any easier. 

As she wiped her wet face dry with the small hand towel, Alexia noticed the big bags under eyes; purple and sickly, they made her look more pale than she already was. Heaving a heavy sigh, she stood up straight and walked out of the bathroom and into her hotel room. They were out of the apartment, she and Psymon, and were now sharing a small room at the hotel. Luckily it had two beds, which made the nightmares easier on Psymon's vocal cords, but as she was still near him, the demons were powerful. Alexia had tried to make Psymon face them, but the physical pain that he had to go through, and that which she felt as a repercussion was a bit too much to handle. 

Her skin was marred from where Psymon had grabbed her, blue bruises on her pale skin blooming every night when she went to wake him up from the nightmares. He just wasn't ready to face them, and Alexia was aware that he may never be. So that was why she was going to pack her bags. She brought him nothing but anguish these days, and it wasn't good for the guy. He had to face the demons on his own, just as he had done years before…

***

_They hadn't just merely thrown him in jail for being accused of molesting Alexia, they had just plain thrown him in the asylum. With the real freaks and the true weirdos, people who couldn't keep themselves sane, couldn't keep themselves from slitting their wrists and had to stay in straight jackets. Evergreen Mental Institution was a hellhole in the way of institutions, Alexia remembered hearing the stories about the place from the kids at Harldon's when she was seven. Ten years had passed and she still remembered hearing the stories. _

"They once tried to abandon the idea of asylums, like the States did," Julie, her roommate had whispered to her one night. "And they opened the doors, let the freaks out." Julie hadn't known anything else, but curious for more information, alexia had gone to Evan, who knew more.

"Lexie, you don't wanna know," he had told her gravely.

"Just tell her, Ev," Simon had told him, "she's gonna find out from somebody else, anyway. So just tell her, because it would be better to hear it from you." Evan had agreed and told her. The insane people, without their meds, had gotten into Northern Okanogan, began to reform to their mental ways, began to show signs of their diseases. And then they had returned to the asylum every night, because they were homeless and had no where to go… and people began to hear things. Screams, horrendous, bloodcurdling shrieks that came from the institution. Sounded like ghosts, like the spirits, yet these were living souls. And soon enough, the building went into disrepair, they broke windows, started fires, hurt themselves and each other. 

And no one would go near the place, night or day, because of the horrific, atrocious sound that came from it. When the government finally reopened Evergreen, half a team of psychologists were killed by the psychopaths. Blood had stained every workable surface, people had died in every room, yet the government didn't let them tear the place down. They just fixed it up, cleared out the old psychos and brought in the new. And now Simon was locked in there. Alexia knew it was her fault, partially, but couldn't stand to see him, couldn't make herself go visit the boy who had saved her.

Simon was messed up these days. Didn't speak. Didn't move. Didn't even try to fight off the nurses putting the straight jacket on him. Just let them do what they had to. Took his meds quietly. Four different shots, two times a day, popping a few pills every four hours or so, he was inert, nearly a dead soul… Yet he was still alive inside. He was not going crazy, he knew it. He didn't want to end up like every other fool that got himself thrown in there. He wanted to come out on top; wanted to escape and get away from the voices that told him he was nothing, that told him Alexia was blaming him.

But every day the voices grew stronger, grew louder, feasting upon his anguished soul in a manner that made Simon believe that he was already dead. And then came the night all terrors were topped. He had been sleeping peacefully in his crib… a full-size bed surrounded by thick wooden bars and covered with a double stitched canvas sheet, attached to the bars with steel o-rings threaded through matching steel grommets… But then the demon came. Monstrous. Ugly. Terrifying at the very least. Simon heard it speak that night, just once. 

"Simon…" It was a whisper, naught more, but the tone and the voice, one which he recognized, a voice he would never forget. The demon brought with him other minions… and not only minions, but hostages… and cold, a cold so deep it went straight for his inner self. He felt the straight jacket being un-strapped, taken from his arms. It felt wondrous to let his arms down at his sides, to not have them bound to his body… but no sooner than he had thought it, the minions began to tear at him, claw at his flesh, ripped open the layers of skin upon his arms… the pain was nearly unbearable, and as the demons face came closer, its hot, putrid breath filling Simon's nostrils, he could take it no longer.

Letting out a ferocious howl, a shriek, a scream, Simon gave into the beasts, did what they wanted him to. A light came on in the room; the demon and his harem had vanished. Simon looked down at his arms, saw red stains upon them, and on the bright white bed sheets, as well. A shadow overcame him, and he turned away shutting his eyes tightly, fearing the worst. But there was no horrible stench. No hot breath on his cheek, no ice washing over his body… Just… soothing sounds, a cool hand upon his feverish cheek, a sweet smell in his nose.

"Look, Doctor…" A kind voice. Simon felt his arm being picked up, examined by soft, lightly probing fingers. When of the doctors touched an open wound, he whimpered slightly, not liking the sound, but not being able to do anything else. They knew his record: he hadn't spoken aloud for months, hadn't moved of his own accord in weeks. They knew of his past, of how he had come to the facility, why he was to be kept there for the rest of his life…

"Simon, sit up, dear," a nurse spoke to him softly, and he felt hands on his back, helping him sit up properly. He wasn't able to control his body, and his head lolled limply to the side, making it look as though he had a broken neck. His eyes fluttered shut, but hearing the doctors speak, he forced them open, just in time to see another nurse flicking an injection needle and preparing his arm to take it. They might as well just hook up an IV_, he thought. The needle moved slowly into the pulsating vein in Simon's under forearm, just a tiny prick of pain; so used to having needles plunged into his arms, he wasn't even sure he entirely felt it, or if it was just his mind registering the breaking of his skin. _

The meds dripped into his bloodstream, began to spread through his body slowly… slowly… then utter calm overcame him like wild fire. His shaking arms were still, his racing thoughts were no more, his chattering teeth and grinding jaw were relaxed. And Simon knew nothing, except that he needed more. It made the pain go away. It made the hurt go away. The voices were silent.

O, but the power of drugs was great.

***

Addiction. She remembered it herself. Addiction to things so powerful, it wasn't quitting when you stopped, it was escaping and saving yourself. Alexia shuddered. Her own personal demons weren't going to come out of her cave. She wouldn't let them. All threats were consequently dealt with… all of them discarded without so much as a thought. Picking up her suitcase, backpack, and snowboard, she looked around the hotel room one last time before slinking out of the door, and back to where she came from- Okanogan.

Sweet Home Alabama? Not really.

***

Ehh, it's short, I know. But getting back into my groove might take a while… *ducks to keep from getting pelted with rotten tomatoes…*

*Star of Light*


	3. Phantom

__

Phantom

Okanogan Valley

"_Shape shifting high  
and a haunted eye.  
Falling plastic and paper demons!  
No trace of time,  
I'm branded sly,  
I am your ghost-master,_

Baby free me."  
- "Return of the Phantom Stranger," Rob Zombie

_The moonlight shines on the floor, and Psymon knows something is wrong. He never sleeps without the curtains drawn, the demon could come in more quickly and more easily than usual. He tries to turn over, but finds he is restrained, held down by two thick plastic straps across his one across his chest and arms, and one across his legs. They are barring him to the uncomfortable table he lies on, a table that is made of cold metal, ice cold against his already freezing skin. Psymon hears a door open to his right side and flips his head over slowly to see the intruder._

It's a doctor of some sort, with the white lab coat, and a full face mask… The kind of mask pathologists wear when performing an autopsy on a body with a new epidemic virus still living within it. Psymon gets scared out of his wits at the sight of this mask. The doctor turns around, a chain mail autopsy glove on one hand, a long knife in the other Latex-shrouded hand. He nods to himself, then places the left hand, with the chain mail glove, on Psymon's chest… the blade in the right had nears his belly button shaking slightly with the nervousness of the doctor… and then there is searing pain as Psymon feels the dagger plunging through his skin, tearing a ling in it from his lower abdomen, through muscle, to his chest cavity between his ribs. The pain, the blood running out of his body… the two put together make Psymon scream loudly.

It is then that the doctor grins maniacally behind his mask. It is then that upon that doctor's chuckle that an acrid scent fills the air, a scent of burning flesh, and rotting corpses, and wretched, dying souls fill the air. It is Satan's signature scent. And Psymon recognizes it as belonging to his inner demon, a thing that found it so easy to devour his soul that he's cutting up Psymon for easier access to his human heart. The demon pulls off the mask and tears off his lab coat, revealing his translucent skin, with the organs pumping within… And it is then that Psymon screams so loudly, he wakes up his dear Alexia, even though she is two-thousand miles away.

And the demon is nearly freed, yet Psymon is waking up, as well. And so the demon heads back to his lair within Psymon's soul, hidden deep in the back of his mind, out of sight until the next time he dares fall asleep.

***

Alexia shot up in bed, her sheets soaked with sweat, pain in her abdomen, straight up her heart. She already could not recall the dream… but those screams… Psymon's wails… Was she really right in leaving him? She closed her eyes, letting the lids drop down slowly. But she wasn't alone in her head.

_Lex…_ Psymon's voice echoed softly throughout her brain. Alexia's eyes shot open, and she tried to decide if she was going to reply. What if he requested her to come back to him? Could she stay away for his sake? Or would she head back as soon as possible, no matter that he was in Japan? _We're sharing dreams, Lex._ Her heart stilled… if Psymon was still having nightmares, it meant that it wasn't her that brought them on, it was just… his life. And if she could help him change it… No. Alexia wasn't going to take the chance. 

"_All you know,  
is alone,  
you see a,  
Phantom Stranger!  
Down you go,  
all alone,  
you love my,  
Phantom Stranger!_"   


His girl had left him. His beautiful girl had resigned her spot on the Tricky circuit and had left without a single word. Psymon trudged down the hall slowly, feeling quite alone in the roaring silence of the nicely decorated hotel. There wasn't a single soul in sight; not a surprise at two in the morning. But he had come up a floor to see Zoë, to ask her for help, to make him forget. Because he didn't think that anyone could.

Stopping in front of Room 1032, Psymon turned slowly, raised his hand, and knocked upon the plain white-painted metal door. Listening to the quiet noises coming from within, he heard the TV turn off from its rap video, and a pair of feet lightly padding against the softly carpeted floor. The door opened two inches, restrained by the safety chain. Zoë's dark eyes and the middle of her face appeared, her eyebrows knitted together in curiosity over eyes narrowed down to slits.

"Yeah?" she growled lightly, obviously disgruntled from being interrupted. 

"Zoë, I just wanted to talk to you," Psymon started.

"Which you're already doing," Zoë interrupted coolly. "We don't really have much to say to one another, you know?"

"Yeah… but I need your help…" Psymon struggled to say the words, hating to need anything from anyone.

"Whatever happened to A-lex-i-a?" Zoë drawled lightly, staring him down from inside her darkened room, through that two inch crack.

"She left," Psymon told her with an edge in his voice, looking her straight in the eye, not blinking. "Nothing too serious… I just need some help. I can't forget… them." She knew what he was talking about… the voices.

Zoë sucked in a small breath, and then replied huskily, "One minute." The door closed in his face for a second or two, then opened fully to reveal Zoë, dressed in a thin black camisole and blue panties, looking quite alluring. "Come on, I just gotta put on some clothes." She moved to the side, allowing room for Psymon to walk through the door, and then she shut it quickly behind him. He followed Zoë to the king-sized bed, where he sat down heavily on the edge, watching her dig through a few dresser drawers for a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. Once she had gotten dressed in the bathroom (although modesty was not really Zoë's strong point, she did possess a bit of decency, and realizing that Psymon was obviously not over Alexia, didn't try to seduce him right away), Zoë came out and sat down beside Psymon, casually draping an arm across his shoulders, and fitting her body as close to his as possible.

He turned to look at her, his face only inches from her own. Zoë shifted slightly, her nose just barely touching Psymon's, and she closed her eyes, knowing that he wouldn't let her sit there like a fool with her lips pursed. Her request was soon fulfilled, Psymon's lips pressed against her own- hard, fierce, and annoyingly enough, without an ounce of emotion. But that was not going to stop Zoë; this was what she wanted. _Psymon_. She let his pull her closer, until they were pressed together and falling back upon the bed, mouths slanted and open, their kiss becoming more feverish. 

Stench. Rancid odors, filling his nostrils, hot breath upon his face… Psymon pulled away from Zoë, earning himself a groan from her, yet he didn't hear it. He heard, instead, a horrible sound- the shriek of a woman, a woman being tortured to no end. She howled and shrieked for mercy yet none came, and Psymon would have sworn he could taste the odorous scent upon his tongue, making him gag and sit up, grabbing at his mouth to keep down the bile. He didn't know where he was, what he was doing there, or why there was a woman laying beside him, calling out a name he didn't recognize, all the while grabbing his face. 

He looked into the woman's eyes, saw her concern, and didn't see anything more. His eyes rolled into the back of his head, showing only the whites; his body went limp, his head lolled back at an uncomfortable angle. But no one knew except for the woman. No one knew except for Zoë.

***

Alexia flopped over in her bed, trying to keep the sunlight from reaching her eyes. She wanted to sleep, to stay in her bed for ages, to never wake up for fear that she might have to face that which she felt she couldn't. _Life_. The world's supreme bitch. Sitting up, she thought back to the past year and its events, of her stalker Zack and the death of her brother Evan; she realized that she hadn't been to Evan's grave in nearly two months. Alexia pulled back the covers from the large bed and put her feet on the ground before standing up and heading into the bathroom. 

After a quick shower and a small breakfast in her underwear, Alexia pulled on a pair of dark washed jeans and a black long sleeve t-shirt, army surplus combat boots and a black visor jammed over her unruly hair. She also grabbed a pair of dark-lens sunglasses and the keys to her Mustang on her way out the door. Her mouth set in a grim line, Alexia walked down to the parking garage under her apartment building, and tried to keep a low profile. There were always Tricky circuit fans prowling about, trying to catch a glimpse of her and Psymon.

Sliding onto the cool leather drivers' seat, Alexia shut the car door and started the engine, listening to it purr before putting it in gear and driving up out of the underground lot. Coming out onto a busy Vancouver street, Alexia put down the convertible top while waiting for a break in the traffic, then turned on the radio, a rock station that played obscure songs by famous artists. Halfway through a Rob Zombie song, Alexia recognized it, remembering Psymon sing the words once. 

__

My sinister sounds  
Sweep the grounds  
Stillborn I lie beneath it  
I throw it away  
The freaks all stay  
Deformed, and 

Laughing, screaming!  


The lyrics reminded Alexia of a time right before Psymon had been sent into Evergreen, a time before he had been taken out of her life for what was supposed to be for good. She had gone to visit him in the province penitentiary, had brought only herself, unmonitored by either Zack or Evan. Alexia vaguely remembered telling the boys that she was going to work, but she knew eventually they would most likely find out she had gone to visit Psymon Stark.

***

_The place was small. Maybe only two meters by three meters, just for Psymon. He sat huddled on the bed, curled up in a tight ball. The guard had told her they heard him screaming at night, talking to himself during the day. And Alexia knew why; the nurses and doctors had told her and Evan that Psymon would most likely suffer mental disorders from the accident. But Alexia didn't believe them, because at first he had been fine… but now, he was getting worse. Finally showing signs. _

Getting charged for the sexual assault charges that should have been tacked onto Zack didn't really help Psymon's disposition, and knowing that neither Alexia nor Evan hadn't tried to change anything made him even more furious. But she had come to see him anyway, hoping to see a bit of the kindnesses still within him that she had once seen before. 

"Psymon?" Alexia had asked the dark cell, stepping through the gate with trust. There wasn't a bit of light in the cell, not even a small area that she could stand in. All of the light ended abruptly outside of his cell.

"Don't come in, Alexia," Psymon warned, his voice quiet in the darkness. "Don't step out of the light." His voice trembled with intense fear, and Alexia took a step closer to the direction his voice had come from.

"Psy-" Alexia was cut off by a pale hand grabbing her forearm. She gasped in surprise, was startled to feel her eyes adjusting to the dark to see a sketchy looking Psymon Stark, iron death-grip upon her arm, next to her in an instant. 

"I told you. Don't step out of the light. Ever," he ordered. 

"Why not?"

"They'll get you," Psymon explained. "The voices."

"What are you talking about?" Alexia was frightened by his persistency that there were voices trying to attack him, to cause bodily harm to him. He dragged her over to the barred side of the cell, and stuck his arm through the steel bars, exposing the skin to the light. Alexia was shocked, seeing it marred with bruises and scraped and cut with deep gashes. "Psymon, what are you doing to yourself?"

"It's not me," he insisted. "It's them_. The voices."_

"They attack you? In the dark?" Alexia asked, concerned. Psymon simply looked her in the eyes and nodded, then turned away, humming a song.

All you know,  
is alone,  
you see a,  
Phantom Stranger!  
Down you go,  
all alone,  
you love my,  
Phantom Stranger!   
  
_"They sing that to me," he told her. "Tell me I'm a freak and that I'm deformed. That I'm alone. And I can't be alone, Lexie. I couldn't stand that. _Ever._" Alexia turned to Psymon, held his hands softly in her own, and moved a step closer to him._

"You'll never be alone, Psy," she swore to him in a low whisper, a husky tone. "Never." She stepped closer yet again, shifted easily, and found Psymon's arms encircling her waist, reciprocating what she felt. The touch of their lips was electrifying, producing a small spark between their bodies, a little flash of blue static light. But then Alexia realized what she was doing- kissing a madman. 

And she realized that once she started, she wouldn't be able to stop.

***

The grave was the same as before, maybe a little bit weedy. As Alexia stood before it, she felt the tears coursing down her face, knowing that they weren't really for her brother. They were for the lost chances of the past, for the emotions she still felt, for the one man she truly could say she loved. Psymon Stark was that man, and Alexia stooped down to the grave, pressing her lips upon it, not knowing that all the while, there was someone waiting for her outside the cemetery gate.


	4. Seduction

Seduction

_"Azrael is beside you and he's playing the game,  
Demons are inside you and they're making their play,  
Watching and they're hiding as they wait for the time  
For a devil to get ready and take over your mind."_  
            -"The Fallen Angel," Iron Maiden

            Psymon felt the demon beside him, felt its hot and stinking breath, its cool death grip upon his arm, the claws scourging his skin, tearing the sensitive skin on his under right forearm to shreds, again. But for once, the demon instilled no fear in his brain. Perhaps he was getting used to the damn thing's horrifying presence, or maybe Psymon was becoming more demonic himself in his ventures.

            He hadn't been on the slopes in two weeks, Rahzel and the team physical therapist (who had minored in psychology) weren't permitting him into competition. Psymon was just along for the ride now. And the demon gleefully couldn't keep himself from reminding Psymon every waking moment of every day. As he turned to look at the beast, Psymon found himself grinning manically, couldn't control his sudden feeling of freedom. He didn't feel a weight upon his chest as he had for the past six months, felt completely at ease, crazily grinning at this demon who had tried to take his soul.

            _This is what happens when you cooperate, Psymon_, the demon informed him silently. Psymon nodded, feeling a bit elated. He tried to stand up, but the demon held him down to the edge of the bed on which he sat. _No. You just stick by me, Psymon, and nothing will happen to you_. Psymon vaguely remembered someone from his past saying those words, someone who was tall and dark and had a rough, gravelly voice. He nearly recognized it, but couldn't place his finger on the name; felt as though he had met the person before, yet hadn't ever known fully who he or she was. 

_You and only god would know what could be done  
You and only god will know I am the only one  
You and only god would know what could be done  
You and only god will know I am the chosen one  
  
_

            Psymon turned to the demon once more, and saw a red glint in the ugly beast's eyes, a glint of bloodlust, a glint of hunger for human flesh and bone. The earlier feeling of euphoria was gone, the freedom was once again dead and he was tied down, strained and enslaved by the gruesome creature. _I'm coming in now, Psymon. _He didn't know where the beast was going, but its tone of glee was not making him feel secure about the decision. _For good._ The two words, uttered in a voice so menacing they made shivers run down Psymon's spine, spelled out all of his worst fears. The beast was going to infest his mind, his soul, it was going to share his body, take over his life. He was the chosen one. 

  
_Could it be it's the end of our world?  
All the things that we cherish and love  
Nothing left but to face this all on my own  
Cause I am the chosen one.  
  
_

            Alexia heard the song playing in her head as she walked down the Vancouver street to the all-night bar she liked to frequent. Quite close to Stark's Bikes, Alexia knew that if Psymon ever came to visit his shop, there was a good chance he'd see her there. It was a little place, a hole-in-the-wall, really; on a sub-level half underground. As she slowly stepped down the cement stairs to the steel door of the pub, she began humming aloud, mouthing the words to herself and smiling. Walking in, Alexia paused to let her eyes adjust to the darkened setting, illuminated solely by neon signs hanging on the wall behind the bar counter. 

            "Hey, Lex," said the bartender. The kid was maybe around Alexia's age, possibly a year or two younger. "The usual?" Mutely, she nodded, sinking onto a stool and looking around at the other bar occupants. It was the usual Wednesday night crowd, a few old drunks and many more women out to sell themselves for a little cash. The people around Alexia were beginning to blur a bit, but not from drunkenness; she hadn't touched alcohol all day. The neon signs were too bright… All Alexia could hear was one long, drawn out shriek roaring in her ears. Blood-curdling, painful, chilling… Then there was blackness.

  
_Could it be it's the end of our world?  
All the things that we cherish and love  
Nothing left but to face this all on my own  
Cause I am the chosen one  
  
_

_            The house was silent, the room pitch black, but eight-year-old Simon was sitting up in his bed, frightened to his wit's end. Something hand woken him up. It was going to be his birthday the next day, and his mom was baking a cake, and her boyfriend of the week, John, was going to be bringing him a present. Mom hadn't let him invite over Evan for some reason, but he thought that it might have had to do with the long shouting match she had had with John earlier in the week. Simon had heard Evan's name more than once, and the slap of flesh meeting flesh. Mom had a new bruise on her cheek the next day, she said it was from falling in the shower, but Simon knew better. _

_            Simon looked out the window, and saw nothing. He looked towards his door, and saw nothing. He looked immediately to the left, and saw nothing, then to the right. Still nothing. But then he felt it. The bed had shifted, as though someone had sat down upon it. But Simon saw nothing… his breath began getting heavier and heavier, more rapid with each second, his fear increasing tenfold._

_            "W-who's there?" Simon stammered, shutting his eyes to block out the fear. There was no reply. He asked again, but still no reply… but then the bed shifted again as though the… thing had gotten up. Simon sighed a sigh of relief. _It was nothing. A ghost,_ Simon told himself silently. _Absolutely nothing._ But he had thought too soon… for the bed shifted yet again. This time, the new dip in the mattress was closer, near his right side… And then he felt it. Hot breath close on his cheek, stinking of alcohol and cigarettes, a deathly disgusting blend that permeated his nostrils and clung to his skin. Simon opened his eyes slowly, just a crack… the moon had come out and was shining through his window, illuminating the room and everything in it with a sickly white glow. _

_            Sitting next to him on the bed was John, his wild and greasy black hair out of its pony tail and sticking out all over the place. He wasn't wearing a shirt, and his pants were unbuttoned and unzipped, a dangerous mix. Simon let his eyes open completely, and met John's beady dark ones, as the man towered over him, lounging on his twin bed with the threadbare flannel sailboat sheets and thin motorcycle comforter. The young boy watched John get up and close the curtains on his window, sending the room into pitch black darkness yet again._

_            Simon knew he'd never be the same. _

_  
_Beaten fallen angel but I've risen again  
And the power is inside me, I've decided to pray  
As I wait for Armageddon and it's coming my way  
It's an honor to be chosen and I wait for the day_  
  
_

_            He woke up to the sun shining brightly through the window, the curtains once again drawn back. There were new cotton sheets on his bed, cool to the touch, swathing him in a cocoon of comfort. Gone too, was the motorcycle comforter, and in place of it was a new fleece one, just a plain dark gray. Simon sat up in his bed slowly… it hurt to breathe and he fell back softly, gasping with pain. His whole body ached from head to toe, his back and chest especially. Looking down upon his own naked torso, Simon saw lines of bruises striping his chest, dark purple and green and blue blooming on his skin, painful to the touch. Mixed in were also long scratches, from John's unkempt hangnails, Simon supposed. _

_            The door to his bedroom slowly opened, and Simon shrank back in fear, praying that it was not John. It wasn't; his mother entered the room, her long blonde hair radiant in the sunlight that caught it. She was a beautiful woman, his mother. Tall, willowy thin, with a toned body and tanned skin; Her large eyes were the same crystal blue as Simon's, her petite nose turning up slightly at the end. Rosy lips, glowing skin, a spatter of freckles on her cheeks… Long, fluid limbs, graceful manner, soft hands, sweet voice. She was wearing a sundress, short and sweet with red cherries printed on a white background and red heels, her hair was pulled back in a low ponytail exposing her neck and dainty ears. It was easy to see why John had picked her._

_            "Simon, sweetie, are you awake?" she called, her voice slightly slurred, even at eleven in the morning. _

_            "Yeah, Mom," he replied, sitting up. His mother walked over, and sat on the edge of the bed. Simon looked her in the face, and realized she was completely drunk. "Mom… about what John did…"_

_            She sighed loudly, flopping back on the bed, her hair fanning out around her head. "It wasn't anything bad, sweetheart," she reassured him. "John just has needs that I can't satisfy." Simon had no clue what she was talking about, she was talking in riddles. "Don't you like the new sheets I picked out? I figured you could use some new ones."_

_            "Sure, Mom," Simon replied, realizing that he would never get a straight answer out of her. But he could resist trying one last time. "But Mom, John--"_

_            His mother sat up quickly, and snapped, "Don't worry about it, Simon. It was nothing. He did nothing wrong." No one in the household would ever speak of the event again. But night fell once more, and the terror didn't disappear… the breath became more harsh and the stench even worse… the pain was more excruciating… the daytime became Simon's refuge. _

_  
***_

            The demon was still sitting by Psymon's side, clawing his arm. He wanted to go further. Psymon turned to the fiend, and looked into its red-hot eyes, saw the excitement, the thrill it felt. How could this demon still be plaguing him, so many years later? How had it followed? What was it after? Suddenly, the demon's claws stopped slashing into his skin; its head perked up, it sniffed the air. Apprehensively, Psymon watched as the thing jumped to its feet, and began stalking towards the door. Letting out a collective sigh of relief, he flopped back on the bed, glad to have averted his sentence. _Oh, Psymon_, the demon told him gleefully.

            _Don't think for a minute that I won't be back for you… I will be. _Psymon groaned, listening to the demon's raspy voice. The disgusting sound had grown on him, made him feel a bit softer inside, made some of his fright disappear. He was getting used to the thing. It was his captor, the one that kept his emotions caged inside, the one that kept Alexia out in the dark. Psymon figured it was better off that way; Alexia couldn't get hurt if she were on the outside of the bars. 

_You and only god would know what could be done  
You and only god will know I am the only one  
You and only god would know what could be done  
You and only god will know that I am the chosen one  
_ 

            The door opened, and the beast left, but not without his parting words. _I'll be back for you, Psymon._ The raspy voice had become soft in Psymon's mind, the odorous breath sweet. Its claws were the soft, well-manicured hands of a young woman, and its red eyes were no longer like hot coals; instead, they were cool sapphires in a pale face, with blonde hair pulled back into a long ponytail under a white cap. Psymon blinked once, then again, before realizing that his demon had transformed into the nurse standing before him. She was a beauty, and he appreciated the way her dress, usually nondescript and boring on nurses, was formfitting and tight. The woman turned away from Psymon a second, to a small table by his bed. He closed his eyes again, figuring she was going to turn off the light and leave. 

_Ping. Ping._ It was the sound of a hypodermic needle being prepped, yet Psymon didn't hear it. _Pop._ The plastic cap came off; and Psymon started as he felt the needle being shoved near violently into his arm. The nurse cursed lightly, realizing she had missed his vein, and Psymon winced as she roughly pulled out the needle and tried again. This time she hit the spot, and the fluid flowed into Psymon bloodstream, depositing itself all over his body in a matter of minutes. The nurse sat and watched him for a second, to make sure the drug was taking the appropriate affect. As she watched him begin to nod off into a dreamless oblivion, for a few hours of peaceful demon-less sleep, she spoke to him in a soft undertone, the last thing he heard before he was out.

_  
Could it be it's the end of my world?  
All the things that we cherish and love  
Nothing left but to face all this on my own  
Cause I am the chosen one_

 "I'll leave the light on for you, Psymon."

And then she was gone, and again he was all alone. 

Psymon found himself missing the demon. Sure, it was the cause of his terror. 

But its presence was seductive. 

It felt good to not be alone.


End file.
